


So This Is Christmas

by the_gabih



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Christmas, Domestic, Fluff, Knotting, Mpreg, Multi, Self-Lubrication, brief mention of child abuse, omega!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gabih/pseuds/the_gabih
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a kinkmeme prompt: 'I want sweet, fluffy, Dean/Cas preparing for the holidays with their kids (at least two). Baking cookies and pies together, decorating the tree, cuddling up and watching Christmas movies, a mistletoe kiss, when the kids are asleep Dean and Cas wrap the presents together, etc.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jesse is seven years old, and he is the Antichrist. He knows so because his Mom and Dad told him so, before the other adults came and took him away and told him they weren’t really his Mom and Dad after all, they’d just adopted him, and they would never ever get to adopt anyone else, ever.

His daddies don’t know that he’s the Antichrist because he hasn’t told them. They look at him funny sometimes like they know, and one time he heard Papa tell Daddy that they should wait for him to tell them anything, but he won’t. Not ever. Because he loves them and he thinks they love him but people don’t love Antichrists because they’re Wicked and Bad and an Ah-bomb-nation. So he doesn’t. Hasn’t ever, not for the whole two years he’s been in their house.

He’s still not telling them today. Today, they’re driving to a place with Christmas trees. They’re going to cut one down and bring it home. Papa’s driving, and Jesse’s sitting in the passenger seat. Uncle Uriel’s driving behind them, with Ben on the big high seat next to him. He’s got a truck to put the Christmas tree in. That’s normally Daddy’s job, but Daddy’s huge because he’s got Jesse’s baby sister growing inside him, so he’s not allowed to help with the tree this year. Papa said it’s lucky uncle Uriel’s on leave, ‘cause uncle Sam won’t be here for two whole weeks and uncle Sam’s big and strong like uncle Uriel but he’s no use if he’s in California.

They pull up in a car park. Papa and Jesse uncle Uriel get out first, and then Papa helps Ben down while uncle Uriel talks to a man in a little room in the corner, next to the gate. The air clouds in front of Jesse’s face when he breathes and he shivers, huddling close to Ben for warmth. Ben gives him a hug, and Papa wraps his arms around them both until uncle Uriel comes back, which helps a lot.

“Okay. He’s given us free run of the place, provided we can keep an eye on those two.”

“Excellent.” Papa has one of those smiles that lights up his whole face. “Shall we get started, then?”

“I guess,” says Ben.

“Yeah!” says Jesse. Papa turns that smile on him, and when he stops the hug he holds out a hand for Jesse to take, which he does. He offers Ben his other hand, too, but Ben just shakes his head and sticks his hands in his pockets. Ben’s trying to be all grown up. Jesse thinks it’s a bit silly, and Daddy and Papa told him they do too, but he’s not allowed to tell, so he doesn’t. He skips instead, splashing through the puddles that have formed in the little holes in the ground and making Papa laugh until he splashes Ben and Ben gets cross and Papa tells him that maybe he should stop, but by then they’re in the trees, and it doesn’t really matter too much because everything smells lovely and Christmassy and everything’s so _big_.

“What about that one?” Jesse asks, pointing to one of the trees with a bird’s nest in it. He’d like to have a bird’s nest in the living room. It’d be cool, having all those baby birds flying around. But Papa shakes his head no.

“I don’t think it would fit, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” says Jesse, ducking his head a little. He shoulda thought of that. Papa puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug.

“It’s okay. We’ll find one that does. There’s plenty to choose from, after all.”

But not that many with birds’ nests, Jesse wants to say, but he doesn’t feel like talking right now, so he just nods and follows Papa and Ben and uncle Uriel. It’s kinda hard to walk in a hug, so eventually they go back to just holding hands, but he misses it when they do.

Papa was right: there’s lots and lots and lots of trees. Ben doesn’t seem as interested by them as Jesse is- he kicks stones and walks with his head down- but Papa and uncle Uriel are looking carefully, and so’s Jesse. He wants to find the perfect one. He’s gonna find the perfect one.

Except that somehow in the end, Ben does instead. “What about that one?” he says, and Papa and uncle Uriel stop to take a look. The tree’s a little way away from the path, and it’s a little bit bigger than Papa is, but they nod and Papa smiles at Ben.

“Looks great. Jesse, what do you think?”

Jesse nods. It’s not his tree, but it’ll do, he guesses. Papa ruffles his hair.

“Alright then. Uriel?”

Uncle Uriel’s got a great big axe with him, like the one Daddy usually brings. Uriel’s stronger than Daddy is though, because he’s in the army, so when he swings it it only takes a few tries before the tree topples over with a creak and a crash, shaking snow everywhere. Jesse’s still a little put out that they’ve chosen Ben’s tree and not his, but he can’t help but get a little bit excited when it does that.

Papa lets go of his hand then, telling Ben to keep an eye on him while he and uncle Uriel hoist the tree up. They’re both really strong, Superman-strong, and Jesse proudly skips along beside them on the way back to the truck, where the man from the hut comes out to help them load it up.

Papa and uncle Uriel are all covered in pine needles and snow after that, and Jesse has a lot of fun swiping it off Papa’s jacket and out of his hair, though his mittens aren’t very good for doing it. Papa doesn’t seem to mind, though, just finishes it off once Jesse can’t do it any more, because “Your Daddy would kill me if I got all this in his car,” and then does the same for Jesse. Ben does all his himself.

Uncle Uriel doesn’t bother, just gets in his truck and waits for them to get in the car. He’s not really Jesse’s uncle- that’s uncle Sam, Daddy’s brother, and uncle Jimmy and uncle Gabriel, who’re Papa’s- but he’s Papa’s best friend, so everyone calls him that anyway. He’s big and he has a deep deep voice and he makes lots of jokes Jesse doesn’t understand (Daddy says he doesn’t either), but he’s okay really. Ben likes him a lot, especially his army stories. He runs over to the truck and climbs up into the cabin next to him, leaving Jesse to go in the Impala with Papa. Jesse doesn’t mind too much, because that means he gets to sit in the front, but he’s a little bit jealous all the same, especially since Ben got to pick the tree, too.

It’s kind of hard to keep being annoyed though. Papa plays music on the way home, and it’s all carols, and Jesse even knows the words to some of them. He sings along, and so does Papa, and Papa doesn’t even mind when Jesse gets the words wrong. He’s trying to learn In Dulci Jubilo, because it has Latin, and he wants to learn Latin so he can be like Papa. Papa knows lots of languages. He’s real clever. Daddy said so. Papa said Daddy’s clever too, but with his hands. That made Daddy laugh and do a thing with his eyebrows that made Papa blush and they wouldn’t tell Jesse why and neither would Ben. They do that a lot.

But Daddy is very good with his hands. He made the crib for the baby, and he made his and Papa’s bed, too, and he’s always fixing the Impala and everyone else’s cars. And he can bake. In fact, when they get home, there’s the smell of cookies just come out the oven, and Daddy standing in the kitchen with floury hands. Jesse pouts at him.

“Daddy! You started without us.”

“Not at all, sweetie. These are for the tree. We’ll make the eating ones later. Hey Ben, Uriel. Cas. You need a hand with that?”

“Dean. We talked about this.”

“What? I was just offering.”

Papa rolls his eyes, but he kisses Daddy once the tree’s up. “I suppose you could do the hoovering, if you’re that keen on helping out.”

Daddy sighs. “Fiiine,” he says.

Papa rubs his belly, and smiles, and kisses him again. “How’s she doing?”

“Asleep, I hope. At least, she hasn’t been kicking too much.”

“Glad to hear it,” Papa says, and he smiles at Daddy’s belly. “You giving your Daddy’s ribs a rest at last, sweetheart?”

Uncle Uriel dusts his hands off, grimacing at Ben. “You two are gonna rot my teeth one of these days.” But Papa just smiles at him, too.

“One of these days, Uriel.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll find this perfect omega and I’ll get it at last. Pretty sure she’ll still be more manly than either of you, though.” He claps his still-gloved hands together. “Anyway, I should be going. Places to go, people not having constant Hallmark moments to see...”

“Sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner?” Daddy asks. “You’ll get to watch us making eyes at each other over ice cream and cookies.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” He nods at Papa, then at Ben and Liam. “See you round.”

“Give my love to the rest of the garrison, won’t you?”

“Sure thing, Wesley.”

“Dude, no way am I Buttercup!”

“Grow out the hair, lose the baby weight and you could be.” Uriel smirks at Daddy and steps out the door. “Evening.”

“Bye! Bye Uriel!” Ben’s actually leaning out the door to wave him goodbye. He never normally does that for anyone else, except Daddy, when he goes to his moms’ house. Jesse thinks uncle Uriel is Ben’s favourite uncle.  Uncle Gabriel’s his, but he’s not here just yet- won’t be until he and uncle Sam come for Christmas. Jesse misses him. Uncle Gabriel has the best sweets of anyone.

For now, though, he has Daddy and Papa and a Christmas tree to decorate. Daddy sits down on the sofa once uncle Uriel’s gone, and Jesse snuggles up next to him while they wait for Papa and Ben to bring down the boxes of decorations. They have four boxes. Ben’s mommies only have two, and they’re all gold, and they look real pretty when they’re all put up, but theirs are all sorts of colours. They don’t look as neat, but Jesse likes it that way.

Papa gets back with the boxes a few minutes later and he bends down to put them on the floor by the mantelpiece and when he stands up Daddy’s doing that eyebrow thing at Papa again, the one that always makes him laugh or blush. This time, it’s the blush. “Dean,” he says, “not in front of the children.”

Ben makes a gagging noise. Daddy just smirks. “Who says I wanted anything to happen in front of them, and not somewhere more private?”

Papa rolls his eyes. “No-one, but you were starting-”

“Lalalalala!” shouts Ben, who’s stuck his fingers in his ears. “Can’t hear you!”

Daddy laughs, and smirks at Papa. “We are totally continuing this later.”

“But of course,” Papa tells him. “Until then, you can make yourself useful.” He holds out his hands and tugs Daddy to his feet before handing him a big bunch of tinsel.

“Fine,” Daddy says, in this long drawn-out voice he does when he’s pretending to be annoyed. “Anyone wanna help me out? Jesse?”

“Uh-huh,” says Jesse, and Daddy smiles at him and gives him a big long string of silver.

“Good boy. C’mon. We’ll do the middle branches, and your Papa can do the top and bottom.” Papa slaps Daddy’s bottom for that, and Daddy smirks at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” says Papa. “Just something else to pick up again later.”

Ben starts doing that singing noise again. Papa and Daddy just laugh. They laugh even harder when Jesse tells them he doesn’t understand.

Apparently he will when he’s older. He hopes so.

-

Decorating the Christmas tree takes ages. The boxes and boxes of ornaments all have to go on the branches, and then Papa wants to put some on all his pot plants, and Daddy puts some on the mantelpiece next to the ultrasound pictures of the baby and the photos of them and the photos of his Mommy and Daddy and he gets a little bit quiet when he looks at those, he always does, but Papa and Jesse pull him away because the TV still needs decorating, and so do all the bookshelves.

And then there’s the kitchen and the hall and the wreath to hang on the front door and Jesse wants some stuff in his bedroom, too, so they put stuff up there, and there’s no time to bake after they have everything looking perfect. There’s only just time to have dinner and then a bath before Papa’s picking Jesse up and getting his pyjamas on and carrying him to his bedroom and answering all his questions about Christmas, because he knows there’s plans, because the grown-ups always have plans because they know everything that’s gonna happen, but he doesn’t.

“What about Samandriel, and Inias? Are they coming?”

“Not for Christmas, no, but they’ll be here for New Year’s.”

Jesse smiles against Papa’s shoulder. “Good. An’ Hester?”

“Her, too. And Rachel.”

Jesse nods, pleased. His sort-of aunties can be a little bit scary sometimes, and they don’t like Daddy very much, but they always bring good presents and they make Papa happy. “What’re we doing tomorrow?”

“Well,” says Papa, as he reaches to turn on the light in Jesse’s room, “I think your Daddy wants to do some more baking tomorrow after church, so we’ve got lots of things to eat when uncle Gabriel and uncle Sam and your cousins get here. And then on Monday evening it’s Ben’s school carol concert, so we’ll be going to that.”

Jesse yawns, and Papa bends and sets him down carefully in the bed. “Mmkay.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll bring a book for you to read. Or you can sing along, if you’d prefer.” Papa kisses him on the forehead, pulling the duvet up almost to Jesse’s ears.

“Wanna sing.”

Papa smiles. “Alright then.”

Daddy comes up while they’re saying their prayers and stands in the doorway, watching them and rubbing his back. He does that a lot these days. Jesse doesn’t see him until  they’re done, but he gives him a sleepy smile when he does, which makes Papa notice him, too.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not that long. Cas- Cas, I’m fine.” But Papa’s already halfway across the room and tugging Daddy over to Jesse’s bed.

“Sit down, Dean. There. Better.” Daddy makes a grumbly noise, and Papa rolls his eyes and kisses it away. Jesse scrunches his nose- gross!- but he’s too sleepy to do much more than that. “I’m going to go see if I can corral Ben into bed. You can stay here ‘til I get back.”

“Yes Mom,” says Daddy, but he’s smiling all the same, and Papa smiles back and kisses him again before he goes and it’s just Jesse and Daddy.

And Jesse’s baby sister too, of course. He reaches out a hand to pat his Daddy’s belly, and smiles when there’s a push against it. “I can feel her.” And it’s still every bit as special as it was when he first did.

Daddy’s smile is big. Really big. “Yeah. I think she wants to say hello.”

“Silly baby,” says Jesse. “Night-time’s not the time to say hello.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t know that yet. It’s always dark in there for her. Makes it kinda hard to tell the difference. It’s gonna take her a while to learn it when she’s out here, too.”

“Why?”

Daddy shrugs. “Because babies need to sleep a lot. Doesn’t matter whether it’s night or day.”

“Why?”

“Because they need sleep to grow.”

“Why?”

“Because they need energy to do it.”

Jesse’s yawn almost stops him from asking again. “Why?”

“Because you need energy for everything. And it’s not just babies who need it. Little boys do, too.”

“Don’ wanna sleep,” Jesse tells him. Daddy just kisses him on the forehead.

“But you need to. Think of it this way- the sooner you sleep, the sooner tomorrow comes. And the next day, and the next. And then before you know it, it’ll be Christmas.”

That makes sense, Jesse supposes. He snuggles down a little further, yawning. “How many days is it?”

“Before Christmas? I dunno. What door on your advent calendar did you open this morning?”

“Um.” Jesse has to think for a moment. “Eleven.”

“And what’s twenty-five minus eleven?”

He has to think a little longer about that. “Fourteen. It’s fourteen days ‘til Christmas.”

“Well done!” Daddy hugs him a little tighter and kisses the top of his head. Jesse grins and snuggles closer.

“Will you sing to me?”

“I think I can manage that.” Daddy pats his chest. “Though I’m warning you, my lung capacity’s not what it was. Your sister’s taking up a lot of room in there.”

“S’okay. I don’t mind.” Jesse yawns. Daddy laughs quietly.

“Alright then. Hey Jude?”

“Yeah.”

Daddy’s voice is soft and low and a little bit rumbly, especially when Jesse’s got his ear pressed to his chest like he does now. He likes it a lot, and very soon the yawns start coming more often, and it gets harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song and make it better...”

Jesse is seven years old and he is the Antichrist, but right now he’s mostly just sleepy.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 16 th 2002**

Seattle Mercy Hospital was a place Dean was not unfamiliar with. He’d made his first visit there when he’d been eight years old, and his attempt to climb the tree in the motel parking lot had left him with a fractured wrist. Dad had not been pleased.

Fourteen years later they’d been in a town a couple hours’ drive away when Sam had decided to swan off to college, and then Dad had started leaving for progressively longer periods of time, and Dean was left hanging. He’d gone back to college mainly for the sake of something to do, someplace he could be that wasn’t sitting around the empty rented apartment with only his increasingly-depressing thoughts for company. He’d found himself veering towards nursing after a while, because blood and upset children were things he could handle, and taking care of the kids in paediatrics meant he could at least try to ignore how badly he’d fucked up with Sam.

So the hospital wasn’t new, not at all. Heck, he was still in his scrubs right then, not having had the time to get changed between his shift and his appointment. What was new was being a patient there- especially in the natal department.

“Dean. Breathe.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Panicking,” said Lisa, giving him the look she always did when he was being particularly stupid. “Breathe.”

Dean scowled at her but did as she said, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, like she’d told him to when he’d taken the test that had started this whole thing.

Well, no, what had started it was a weekend of the best fucking sex Dean had had in his life. Lisa had been bendy and domineering and Dean had been walking like fucking Bambi by the time she’d been done with him, but it had been so worth it.

Or so he’d thought at the time. Four months down the line- two of them spent hunched over the toilet bowl- he wasn’t so sure. All he had to show for it so far was an ultrasound of a largely shapeless blob and an increasingly rounded waist, and while he was fairly sure he wanted to keep said blob, he was even more certain that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing here.

“Dean?”

Thank God. Becky. Okay, so she was kind of overly bubbly, and that put some people off, but there were worse people Dean could think of to look at his insides. Besides, she was a Trek fan (even if she went on about Kirk and Spock a little too much sometimes), which automatically made her okay in his book. He stood, Lisa following, and offered Becky a smile, which was returned. “Becky. Hey. Uh, this is my... this is Lisa.”

Lisa glanced over at him, and he gave a sort of ‘what?’ look back- in fairness, there hadn’t been much time to work out what they were to each other in the couple of weeks since Lisa had found out he was pregnant, had found him and had demanded answers. Not that her presence wasn’t welcome, because fuck knew Dean couldn’t do this on his own, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted the thing between them to be anything more than a friendship between two people who’d had amazing sex together. You were meant to smell it, when your ideal mate was there, and while Lisa smelled good... yeah. He had no idea, really.

Good thing Becky was as chirrupy as ever. “Your alpha, I heard. I mean, we’ve never really spoken at all, but I guess gossip travels kinda fast around here. Anyway, hi Lisa! Do you guys want to get started, then?”

The steady stream of words was oddly soothing, gave Dean something to focus on, and he nodded and followed in her wake, Lisa at his side the whole way down the hall to Becky’s office. “You’ve timed this really well, actually. I mean, I know you weren’t really timing it or anything, but the department’s getting a revamp- I don’t know if you knew? Yeah. Loads of new stuff. Makes it even easier to take care of you. And the baby too, of course. If you could just climb onto this couch, please?”

She patted it, and Dean did, already feeling a little awkward. Lisa stood beside him, staring round the room, almost hawklike. She hadn’t struck Dean as a particularly stereotypical alpha before all this- it’d been one of the reasons he’d bedded her, he fucking hated the knothead type- but apparently having knocked someone up had got her instincts going, and her proverbial hackles up. Or something. Dean was mostly just distracting himself from everything by focusing on pulling his shirt and top off. Becky smiled at him encouragingly for it.

“Right, so you know how this works by now. You’re not getting the amniocentesis, so for now it’ll just be a scan. Is everything going okay?”

“Uh, apart from the tiredness, the stretch marks, the fatigue, the whole ankle thing, and the fact that I can hardly fit into most of my pants any more, yeah, it’s all going great.”

Becky grins. “So, normal, then.”

Dean shrugs. “You tell me.”

“Well, it is. Are you sleeping okay? ‘Cause I have these sheets about sleeping arrangements and pillows and stuff if-”

“Can we just get to the scan, please?”

“Dean,” Lisa said. “You aren’t, are you?” When Dean didn’t answer, she turned to Becky. “We’ll have two copies of those sheets, if that’s okay.”

“Sure!” Said copies were duly handed over, and Lisa grabbed them before Dean could, giving him a stern look. Dean very nearly pouted.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You need to be taking better care of yourself.”

“Yes, Mom.”

That earned him a whack to the back of the head with the rolled-up sheets. Becky giggled. “Okay, okay, enough... not-really-marital disputes. Dean, you know how this goes. I’m gonna need you to lie down.”

And lie down he did, feeling distinctly awkward and exposed and a little bit cold to boot. There was tinsel on the ceiling. And a picture of cats. He wasn’t entirely sure how that made him feel.

The gel, when it was applied, was about as cold as he remembered. He tried not to flinch, but Lisa must have noticed something anyway, because by the time Becky was done she was standing that much closer to him, with a hand on his wrist. Not that the display mattered- Becky was omega, and even if she weren’t, she was much too busy prepping the machine to pay any notice to the two of them just then. That was the good thing about Becky- when she focused on something, she really freaking focused. Which was good in a medical sense, not so much when she got her heart set on setting people up with dates, as she had the habit of doing. (Not that Dean had been a victim of that, but he’d heard stories, okay.)

“Alright, here we go.” The scanner pressed against his skin, pushing down until it was just shy of being uncomfortable. Dean felt an instinctive urge, like he had the last time, to hunch in on himself, to keep his bump and the clump of cells inside safe from the perceived threat, but he forced himself to relax, to focus. First on the stupidly fast heart rate coming from the speakers. Then...

“Is that it?”

“Your baby? Yeah. A bit better-formed than last time, don’t you think?”

“Hell yeah.” Dean was staring. “Oh my God, it has toes.”

“A fairly common feature in babies, I think,” said Lisa, who despite the sarcasm was about as enraptured by the image as he was. Becky grinned and moved the scanner a little, and suddenly a head hoved into view, bulbous and blurry and still absolutely captivating. Dean thought it might be moving, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Have you felt him moving yet?” asked Becky, as if she’d read his mind.

“I, uh. Not yet.”

“That’s fine. You’ll probably start to feel it in the next couple weeks. If not, let me know. He looks pretty healthy, I have to say. Although... your placenta’s kinda blocking the entrance to your cervix.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Becky flapped a hand, as though she were worried Dean would be. “It should move on its own- the thirty-six week scan should confirm that. If not, well, we’ll deal with that.” She passed the scanner over the baby again, then shut it off, and set about cleaning it. “So, any questions?”

-

Dean didn’t quite manage to process the day until he was back in his own apartment, with Lisa having left him to take a shower while she went pillow-shopping. Not that he was actually in the shower at that point, or even in the bathroom- he was sitting right where she’d left him, on the crummy sofa, pictures from the scan in hand.

A baby. He was having a fucking baby, and he’d never been so scared in his life.

But on the other hand... well. For a clump of cells that had taken up residence inside him, it was kinda cute. More than that, in fact. Dean was still reeling a little, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could come to love the thing.

Not that he knew the first thing about taking care of it. But what he did know was that he was determined to at least try.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben is thirteen years old, and he has absolutely no idea why his school wants his year to do a stupid carol concert. But they do, so here he is, standing on stage in the freezing local church and singing ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’ with a bunch of other people who sing about as well as he does (which is to say, terribly). His moms and dads and little brother are all watching, and they’re making a huge deal out of whooping and cheering and clapping for him at the end of every song and joining in during them, and his throat hurts, and basically tonight sucks.

By the time the concert’s over, his throat hurts so bad he can barely sing, though at least his coughing means that Dad doesn’t hug him in front of everyone (Castiel stops him- he’s paranoid because of the baby- and Jesse, too, but doesn’t stop Mom or Cassie  at all). They don’t even stay for the crappy mince pies and orange juice, even though Castiel and his moms always make a big thing of talking to all the other parents about him, just drive straight home, where Ben’s sent straight to bed with a big glass of water.

The next morning finds him watching Simpsons reruns on the sofa, bundled up in pyjamas, a jumper and a dressing gown, with Castiel bringing him a hot chocolate with marshmallows.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Don’t mention it,” Castiel tells him. He ruffles Ben’s hair, too. Ben usually hates it when he does that, but he doesn’t mind it so much when he’s ill. Takes too much energy. “Finish that off, and I’ll drop you off at your moms’ before I go to work. I phoned Cassie and she said she’s in all day today, so she’ll be happy to keep an eye on you.”

Ben doesn’t really want to move, just wants to curl up right here on the couch and do nothing all day, but Castiel’s got classes to teach and Dad can’t come near him in case he gets it and it hurts the baby, so off to his moms’ it is. “’Kay.”

Another hair-ruffle, then Castiel moves over to the armchair with a pile of papers to grade, all of them on some obscure point of Bible studies or something. Ben doesn’t know. Dad thinks he’s super-smart, and he kinda is, but then Dad thinks the sun shines out of Castiel’s ass or something.

And it’s not that Ben doesn’t like Castiel, not at all. He just... doesn’t really know him all that well, for a guy who’s kind of his dad (he’s still holding out on calling him Papa, and that’s the main reason why). Like he's so kind and gentle and lovely that you can't get past that, and Ben knows there's something past it, because he was a soldier so there's got to be. He's tried asking Uriel, but Uriel won't talk about Castiel, not beyond the occasional funny story about their life in the army.

He wants to know what Castiel’s like, what he’s really like. He wants to know why he came here, why he got together with Ben’s dad, why he seemed to switch so easily from being a soldier to being a quiet college professor in a subject that had nothing to do with war.

(And if he wants to be certain, really certain, that Castiel will still be good to him and Jesse after his baby arrives then, well. Nobody else needs to know, do they?)

Even with the hot chocolate, he’s in an absolutely foul mood by the time he’s dropped off at his moms’. Cassie greets him at the door, waving to Castiel as he drives off with her other arm round Ben before she ushers him into his room and into bed, which is cold and neat and not what he wants right now, not when his other bed is all messy and probably still a bit warm. Her soup is good, though- she uses the same brand as Dad does, probably on purpose. Or maybe Dad uses the same brand she does. She’s been around longer than Ben can remember, after all, so it could have been her who started the chicken-and-star-soup tradition. Or maybe her parents did. She doesn’t like to talk about them much, though, so Ben doesn’t know.

 He calls Cassie Mom sometimes. He used to call her Mama, but then he used to call both his moms Mama when he was little. They tried alternatives for her, but they never really stuck, so Cassie it was. Maybe that’s why he still doesn’t call Castiel Papa, like Jesse does.

Except he knows it’s not. Knows it’s this stupid feeling he gets, like Castiel doesn’t really want to be his dad, like he just wanted Ben’s Dad and Ben just happened to come as part of the package. And this is really, really not what he wants to be thinking about when his head feels weird and his eyes are sore and so is everything else and he’s coughing all the time, but he can’t focus on anything, like his brain isn’t working because his body isn’t, and urgh. He hates everything, and decides to punctuate that thought by flopping an arm across his face.

-

The days he spends at his moms’ place pass slowly, and a little bit hazily at first. Mom gets back from work earlier than usual, and kisses him on the forehead and uses a damp flannel to try to cool him down a bit. Cassie makes dinner, then after dinner he sleeps. The next day he wakes up, has soup, sits with Cassie while she works on her articles, has dinner when Mom gets back. Rinse, repeat, again and again and again until one day Castiel’s there, sitting by his bed with a book.

“Hello Ben,” he says. “How are you feeling?” Ben just shrugs in reply. Castiel gives him a small smile, and runs his hand over Ben’s forehead and through his hair. “You shouldn’t be infectious now, but your Dad won’t be visiting just yet. Just in case. But I thought I could keep you company instead for a while. Is that alright?”

Ben shrugs again. Castiel seems to take that as a yes, because he opens the book starts to read. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit...”

It’s a kid’s story, all fantasy and dwarves and elves and all that stuff. But listening to Castiel’s deep voice rumbling its way through the words is better than trying to read anything for himself, so Ben doesn’t complain.

It’s not actually that bad, he decides. Right before he finds himself falling asleep.

-

Castiel isn’t there when he wakes up, but he manages to get out of bed and stumble downstairs for lunch, and when he does he finds him in the kitchen with Cassie, preparing their food. Jesse’s with him.

“Ben!” he greets him, beaming from ear to ear in such a way that Ben- in his sick, still-sleepy state- can’t help but smile.

“Heya Jesse. Did ya miss me?”

Jesse nods emphatically. “Yeah. Papa said we weren’t allowed to watch any of the Christmas videos without you. But we made you cookies!”

Ben glances between him and Castiel, who offers him a brief smile before turning his attention back to the butternut squash he’s chopping. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

“How are you feeling, Ben?” Cassie leaves off with whatever she’s cooking to come over and feel his forehead. “Your temperature’s doing better, at least.”

“I feel better.”

“Good.” Cassie kisses him on the forehead. “Another couple days and you should be just fine. Now, sit.”

And sit Ben does. The food is good. Castiel and Cassie are good cooks, and Jesse’s bubbly enough that he fills in any and all gaps in the conversation until the food’s gone and they can all crash on the couch and watch Mom’s old Looney Tunes Christmas video. Ben snuggles against Cassie and Jesse snuggles against Cas and by the time Mom gets back, they’re all one big pile of blankets and not wanting to move. So of course Mom just brings the cookies out from the kitchen, and joins them.

If only Dad were there, it’d be perfect. But it’s another two days before he is. In the meantime, Castiel is there a lot, dropping in before he goes to teach or stopping by on his way back, always with a smile for Ben, and sometimes with presents from Dad. He eats a lot of cookies, in spite of the number he gives away when he goes back to school, and takes comfort in the idea that Dad’s doing stuff and thinking of him, even without him there. And then finally, finally, he comes round for dinner- all three of them do- and he’s there, and Ben hugs him for a long, long time before he lets him go, and Dad hugs him back tighter.

“I’m guessing you liked the food, then?” he says. Ben smiles and nods, and strokes his stomach when he feels the baby pushing against him. “I think she missed you, too.”

Of course she didn’t, she’s just a baby who hasn’t even been born yet. She probably has no idea who Ben even is. But the thought is oddly touching all the same, and he smiles until Dad lets go of him. “C’mon,” he says, “I don’t think Jesse can handle going another day without the Muppet Christmas Carol.”

And well, who is Ben to deprive his little brother? He lets himself be ushered into the living room, Dad’s hand still on his shoulder, and curls up on the sofa next to Jesse. Dad sits next to him, and Castiel appears with drinks and mince pies just as Gonzo begins the story, giving Dad a quick kiss and Ben a big smile before he settles down, getting Jesse to climb into his lap so Ben’s moms have room to sit, too.

Well, they don’t really. In fact, everyone seems a tiny bit squashed- or more than a tiny bit, in Castiel’s case. But it’s cosy and warm and this, Ben thinks, this is much better.

-

It’s another week before he returns to his dads’ house- by the time he got better, it was the week he was meant to spend with his moms- and the place looks even more ridiculously festive when he gets back. Castiel’s hung the Christmas cards up on strings of sticky tape, and there’s paper chains all over the place, some decorated in a very Jesse-y style. It looks like Christmas threw up all over the place, especially in contrast to the modern, chic decorations around his moms’ house.

Ben kinda likes it.

Jesse’s tugging him towards the kitchen before he can see too much of it though, and he follows a little bemusedly. “Gotta decorate the cake!” Jesse tells him.

Dad and Castiel are waiting in the kitchen for them, both wearing aprons (Dad’s folds kinda weirdly over the baby bump). In front of them are two cakes- the fruit cake that was made a few weeks ago, and a chocolate log for the kids- and a whole wealth of icing stuff.

“Ben,” says Castiel, “we thought you could pick which one you wanted to decorate.”

“Really?” Ben looks over to Jesse, who nods earnestly. “Okay. I, uh...” The fruit cake would probably be better for making artistic creations, considering it’s got a flat surface, but that isn’t really Ben’s thing. Jesse, on the other hand, might want to do the chocolate log just because it’s the chocolate log, and he doesn’t want to make him upset. Decisions, decisions.

Dad sort of waddles over to him, leaning over and whispering in his ear. “If you’re stuck, then I think Jesse wants to do some kind of snow scene. With penguins.” Then he smiles at Ben and says, louder, “Bathroom break. Be right back.”

Which leaves Ben with a fairly easy choice. Kind of hard to put penguins on a log cake, after all. “I’ll do the chocolate one,” he announces. Castiel nods.

“Alright then.” He slides the chocolate log cake over to Ben, and pulls the fruit cake towards Jesse. “Have you got everything you need?”

“And more,” says Ben, eyeing the pile of icing cutters and other implements a little warily.

“Good.”

The kitchen lapses into silence after that, broken only by Jesse’s occasional request for Castiel’s help with something. Ben’s icing isn’t exactly neat, but he manages to pretty much cover the cake, so that’s something. Dad reappears a little while later, and together they roll out a load of fondant icing for the holly. And okay, maybe they put a little too much of it on the cake- Mom would probably only have used one or two things, but they put, like, ten on it- but hey, it’s for kids. He doesn’t think Jesse will complain, or cousin Jess or Amelia either. Uncle Gabriel certainly won’t.

Over on the other side of the table, Jesse is crafting the finishing touches of his penguin with infinite care, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he works. It’s kinda cute. Castiel’s mostly just watching, having finished rolling out the icing for the wings a little while ago. He looks up, smiling at Ben and mouthing the words ‘hot chocolate?’ at him. Ben grins back, and nods.

-

Later on, when Jesse’s cake is done (and his idea of adding an igloo only prevented by the fact that it caved in on itself before he could add it to the cake), and dinner had, and Jesse in bed, Ben finds himself padding down the stairs. Dad’s reading to Jesse, but Castiel’s still downstairs, still marking work even though his college has broken up for the holidays. Ben settles himself down on the armchair nearest the sofa Castiel’s sitting on, shifting around a little awkwardly before he clears his throat. Castiel looks up, and smiles.

“What is it, Ben?”

“I was wondering, um. If you wouldn’t mind finishing that book.”

The second sentence tumbles out, the words tripping together and all over themselves, but Castiel just nods, and pats the sofa next to him. Ben surprises himself by going and sitting without a word- sitting close enough to touch, too. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Ben is thirteen years old, and he’s still not one hundred percent sure about Castiel, but he’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.


	4. Chapter 4

**December 18th 2004**

"Sam?"  
  
Dean's little brother was taller and four years older than the last time they’d seen each other, but he still looked like the kid who ran out the door to college, determined to never return.  
  
"Dean."  
  
And Dean was every bit as helpless as ever in the face of the raw ache in his expression.  
  
"I... Sam, you okay?"  
  
Sam seemed to draw breath with effort. "Can I come in?"  
  
The evasion was obvious, but what could Dean do? He stepped aside, holding the door open for Sam. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."  
  
Sam’s shoulders were slumped in a way Dean had rarely seen them, his head low like he couldn’t quite summon the energy to keep it up properly, which was more than a little worrying. Dean said nothing though, knowing not to push and feeling every inch of the time-created chasm between them as Sam shuffled forward, holding a duffle bag close like a shield.  
  
“You stayed,” he said eventually. “In Seattle. I didn’t think you would.”  
  
“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged. “I had my reasons.”  
  
Sam looked like he was about to ask what those were, but he was beaten to it by the sound of a high, childish voice. “Dada?”  
  
“Dada?” Sam repeated, sounding slightly incredulous, but Dean ignored it in favour of heading through to the living room-slash-kitchen and picking Ben up from where he was sat on the floor next to his favourite squishy soccer ball.  
  
“What is it, big boy?” Ben yawned in response, curling up against Dean’s chest and burying his face in the crook of his neck, his hand rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah, I think it’s bedtime for you. You want some milk first?”  
  
There was a sleepy nod at that, and Dean kissed his head before carrying him over to the counter, gesturing for Sam to take a seat while he set about fixing Ben his drink. When he turned, Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the piles of textbooks and class notes scattered over it. “Sorry about the mess.”  
  
“No, I... it’s fine.” He looked lost. “You’re a nurse?”  
  
“Yeah. Pediatrics. Still in training though- had to put it on hold for a while when I had this one.” He gestured to Ben, then set his sippy cup in the microwave to heat up.  
  
“He’s yours, then.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“How old is he?”  
  
“Nineteen months. He’ll be two in May. This is the first Christmas he’ll be aware he’s getting presents. At least, I’m hoping it will be. Last time he just sort of stared at everything and tried to eat the wrapping paper.”  
  
That got the tiniest flicker of a smile- Dean counted it a success. He grabbed the drink from the microwave and, after a quick heat test, sat down opposite Sam to start feeding it to Ben. There’s silence for a while, broken only by the sound of Ben drinking, before Sam spoke.  
  
“You know I- when Dad said not to come back. That wasn’t... I didn’t want that.”  
  
Dean stayed quiet. It would have been so easy to demand answers, to demand why he had run out even with that ultimatum, if he hadn’t wanted it so much, but it had been a long day, and he really, really didn’t want to drive Sam away again by starting up an argument. Sam seemed to take his silence as agreement, or perhaps as something else, and continued.  
  
“The original plan was to go to college and then, I dunno, go out to wherever you guys were over the holidays if I could. Or for you to stay over if you were nearby. To stay in touch with you. I mean, yeah, you kinda drove me up the wall at times, I’m not gonna lie, Dean, but I didn’t want to lose you. Not really. And even after... I guess I thought you’d come find me or something. Or call, or whatever.”  
  
Dean frowned. “I tried calling you. First while I was pregnant with him, then again after he was born. After that, I kinda figured you wanted to cut all ties."  
  
"No." Sam shook his head vehemently. "No, it wasn't that at all. I just... God, it sounds so stupid and petty, but I kinda got drunk one night and pretty much deleted every name off my phone. I still don't know why drunk me thought it was a good idea, but sober me didn't agree."

“So when I called...”

Sam nodded. “I thought you were a stranger, and I ignored it.”

“Right.” Dean paused. “So I’m guessing you never heard anything from Dad?”

“No,” said Sam. "Where is he, by the way?"  
  
Dean shrugged. "Hell if I know. Started disappearing a little while after you did, sometimes for a few weeks, sometimes longer. Then right before Ben was born, he just vanished altogether. I would've gone after him, but I was pretty much on bed rest by then."  
  
“...ah.”

The ensuing silence was decidedly tense, but each of them seemed to be doing their best to pretend it wasn’t. Sam was looking round the room, his eyes falling on the photographs of Ben, Dean with Ben, Dean with Ben and Lisa. It wasn’t until Ben whimpered in his sleep that Dean realised he was maybe holding him a little too tight.  
  
"So, uh." Sam cleared his throat. "You're mated now?"  
  
Dean shook his head. “Not properly. Lisa and I, we slept together a couple times. I spent the weekend at her place once. I musta been going into heat or something 'cause I missed the worst part of it, and six weeks down the line I was puking like it was going outta style. Then seven, eight months later, well." Dean gestured towards Ben, a small, involuntary smile touching his lips.  
  
"But you and Lisa, you're not...?"  
  
"No. I mean, we tried, for Ben's sake, but eventually we figured we were better off as friends. Lisa found someone else, we worked out a joint custody thing, and, well. Here we are."  
  
Sam gave a quiet noise of acknowledgment, which made Dean guess that whatever drove him from college was probably girl-related. In his arms, Ben hiccups sleepily, and Dean lifts him up to settle him back against his shoulder, setting the sippy cup down on the table. “There’s sheets and blankets in my room. I’ll show you where it is- the spare’s next door. It’s kinda titchy, but the bed’s okay. I think.”

Sam nodded, and followed him without a word. It wasn’t until later, after he’d settled Ben down in his cot for the night and gone to see how Sam was doing, that they spoke again. Sam had his head in his hands, and were it not for the minute hitching of his chest every time he breathed, Dean wouldn’t have known he was crying.

Fuck. This was so not something he knew how to handle. But nonetheless, he crossed the room and knelt in front of him, quietly moving the portrait of a blonde bombshell  to one side, away from stray tears, and gently touching Sam’s knee. It was a long while before he looked up, and longer before he spoke.  
  
"It's- she always said I'd crash and burn without her. Jess, I mean. It was meant to be a joke at the time, but then..." Sam waved a hand in an abortive movement, then swiped it over his face. "Then there was a fire in our block and she was just -gone-, and I didn't, I couldn't..."  
  
"Hey," Dean moved closer, reaching out to rest his hand on Sam's shoulder. Comforting his little brother is harder now, with the emotional distance that the last few years had built up between them, but damned if he wasn’t gonna try all the same. "Hey. I'm not saying everything's gonna be okay, 'cause I'd be lying, but you ain't gonna do that. Jess... sounds like an amazing chick, but you can live still, and you're gonna."  
  
"How?" Sam demanded. "I've got no job, nowhere to live, I didn't even graduate from college. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"  
  
"No idea. But hey, if I could figure it out without even graduating high school, and with a baby, I figure you can, too." That shut Sam up quick. Dean sighed, rocking back on his ankles and running a hand through his hair. "Look. I can't support all three of us for more than, like, a week or two, so you're gonna need to get a job of some kind sharpish, but I'm pretty sure me and Lisa can ask around, see if we can't find you something."  
  
"Dean-"  
  
"Then after that, you're gonna spend some time thinking over what you're gonna do next, whatever that is, whether you wanna go back to college or something, or stay working, or... I dunno, whatever. Okay?"  
  
Sam was looking at him curiously. "When did you grow up?"  
  
Dean shrugged, looked away. "Kinda had to."  
  
Sam nodded. “I guess,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I missed it. All of this.”

Another shrug, and Dean clambered to his feet. “Yeah, well. You’re here now. Might even be able to get you a present in time for Christmas, if you’re lucky. Now sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Dean waited until he was safely ensconced in his room before he allowed himself to sag. Fuck. This was gonna be... interesting, to say the least.

But. It was Christmas, and just as he’d been determined to make it a good one for Ben, he was now determined to do the same for Sam, even if he was still grieving. He could at least distract him, just for a while. And hey, at least he had him back. That was a start. He could work with that.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean is thirty-six weeks pregnant, and to tell the truth, he's just the tiniest bit sick of it. Not that he's ever going to admit that to anyone, but the frequent bathroom breaks got old early, as did the aches and the swollen ankles and the general fatigue.  
  
Then there's sex. Don't get him wrong, his sex life is still pretty great, but he kinda misses just being able to ride Cas' cock like his life depends on it, or drop down to his knees in front of him, not to mention the many and varied (and highly creative) ideas Cas used to come up with.  
  
Not that it doesn't still feel good when Cas trails his lips along Dean's spine first thing in the morning, when he's half-awake. Or when his hand reaches round to stroke across the stretched-out skin over Dean's belly and up to his sensitive breasts.  
  
"Mmn... Cas?"  
  
"Ssh, Dean," Castiel chides him, and there's a hint of a smile in his husband's voice. "You'll wake the children."  
  
"Not like they used to have any problem waking us," Dean says, his voice kind of half-heartedly grouchy (it's hard to get the proper effect when Castiel is feeling him up, after all).  
  
"All the same. Think of them."  
  
"Rather not right now, if it's all the same to you."  
  
That gets him a gentle slap to the chest, which stings a lot more than it did nine months ago, and a playful bite to the back of the neck. Dean gasps, and the sound becomes almost a chuckle as Castiel’s hands move to the more ticklish parts of his side. “Cas...”

“What is it, Dean?”

The bastard, he’s laughing at him. Not really, but it’s in his voice. Dean retaliates, reaching back to tug and yank at his hair in a way that almost never fails to turn him on. “I’m guessing the aim of this morning isn’t actually a tickle match, is it?”

“Hardly a match, Dean.” His voice has dropped down low- always a good sign. “It would be rather one-sided if it were.”  
  
Before Dean can answer, his hand’s travelling further down, brushing just ever so lightly against his cock before moving up over and around his thighs to his ass. Dean dutifully lifts a leg up, and is rewarded by a finger rubbing at his hole before sliding in without resistance- he’s wet already, _fuck_. Castiel hums his appreciation against his neck, sucking and biting at the skin until Dean’s fairly sure he’ll have a bruise there that not even the most hideous high-necked Christmas jumper will be able to hide.

Worth it, though.

One finger becomes two, stretching him out, working him over, and Dean’s having to bite his lip to keep from making too much noise by the time they’re withdrawn. Even so, when Cas’ cock nudges at his hole, pushes inside, a whimper still manages to escape him, and there’s a low, quiet growl from Castiel in response. His hand comes up to cover Dean’s mouth, two fingers sliding inside, and Dean moans at both the taste of himself and Castiel together and at the thrust that takes Castiel further inside him.

“Always so good for me,” Castiel tells him, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Always so hot and tight and wet. So perfect, Dean.”

Dean whimpers again, shuddering a little. Castiel’s cock is buried in him to the hilt, and he can feel the knot starting to form, stretching him out, filling him up. His hips cant backwards almost of their own accord in tiny, sharp movements that wrench another groan from his mate. The second his knot is full, Castiel pushes him a little way over, shoving a leg between his and thrusting hard. Dean moans around Castiel’s fingers, the sound hitching when his husband’s hand wraps around his cock and starts jacking him off. He’s gonna stain the pillows under his belly. They both are, and Dean doesn’t care at all.

Within minutes he’s shaking, trembling against Castiel as he comes over his hand and his belly and the pillows. After that, Castiel doesn’t thrust so much as grind, long slow flexes of his hips before he’s coming, too, groaning loudly, his movements stuttering and his hand falling away. Dean grins even as he works to get his breath back.

“What was that you said,” he gasps eventually, “about not waking the kids?”

“...shut up.”

Dean laughs, snuggling back against him. “Also, you’re washing the sheets.”

“Fine,” Castiel murmurs. He throws an arm over Dean, stroking distractedly over his baby bump. Dean moves to lace their fingers together, and closes his eyes again.

Okay, their sex life is still pretty good. But even so.

-

By the time they get up, it’s nearly midday, and Dean’s starving. Lunch, however, is put on hold for a while- Ben’s way of distracting Jesse from the noises in their parents’ room was apparently to have a massive pillow fight with him, and the lounge, in its wake, is looking rather the worse for wear. It’s December twenty-third, and while Sam and Gabriel are the last people to complain about someone else’s house being messy, Dean would still prefer the place to be clean before they arrive tomorrow. That, and he can’t see much of the floor around his feet nowadays. Makes getting across it when it’s messy a bit less easy than it used to be.

Cas pushes him down onto the sofa once it’s done, and Dean goes without complaint. His back’s aching again, though at least the baby’s relatively calm for once. A bowl of mac and cheese is brought out a little while later, and Dean gives his husband a grateful smile as he takes it and digs in.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Not at all,” Castiel says, sitting down beside him and draping an arm around his back. “Apparently Ben’s going out for a game of soccer with some friends later.”

“And Jesse?”

“I’m sure we can find something for him to do.”

“Mmn,” Dean hums. “So you’re going round to Mrs Tran’s later, then?”

“Tomorrow, actually. I think she’s having a dinner party this evening.”

“Awesome. You’ve got the food and stuff, then?”

“Yes, I bought it while Ben was at his moms’. It’s at the back of the closet, behind the other presents.”

“Need to wrap those.”

“And we will,” Castiel said, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, but diverting to his shoulder when he realises Dean’s about to take a mouthful of food. “When I bring the main present home.”

“What is the main present?” Jesse asks, bounding up onto the sofa next to Castiel, who laughs.

“Never you mind. You’ll find out in two days’ time.”

“Aww.” Jesse pouts and Castiel bops him on the nose.

“Two days. It’s not that much.”

“Yes it is,” Jesse mutters, but he consents to being drawn in for a hug all the same.  “Can’t I even have a hint?”

“No.” Dean and Castiel glance over at each other, grinning- they said that in unison. Ben, who’s just arrived back in the living room, pulls a face.

“Urgh. Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?” they ask, again simultaneously, shooting him their best innocent looks. Ben just makes a vague grumbly noise in reply and sinks onto the armchair, quickly losing himself in his DS, apparently determined to pretend that he doesn’t have two huge embarrassments for dads. Jesse seems fine enough with the state of things right up until Dean’s polished off the last of the macaroni and they start kissing, at which point his nose goes squirrely and he shuffles out of the hug.

“Eew, _Daaads!_ ”

-

The weather forecast’s promised nothing more than rainy, slightly cold weather. The rain, however, is a no-show, which improves Dean’s mood a little, even if he isn’t going outside. Instead he putters around, getting Jesse’s room tidied up for Jess and Ben’s room ready for him to share with Jesse while she’s there. Castiel’s got the job of getting the travel cot out of the attic and set up in the spare room for Amelia (Dean may or may not have taken a few moments to ogle his ass during the parts of setup where he had to bend over), and Jesse hangs a bauble from one of the corners, simply because he can.

After that, they’d originally planned to get some more chores done, but a sudden shout from Ben puts a stop to that. “It’s snowing!”

“Can’t be,” murmurs Castiel, “the weather forecast specifically said...”

But in spite of Castiel and his somewhat-misguided faith in CNN, there are in fact tiny white flakes falling outside the window, and they quickly become heavier. Jesse all but squeaks, bouncing and clapping his hands together in excitement. “Snow! Snow!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” says Dean. “You gonna go get your coat and boots on and go outside?”

“Yeah!” Jesse pelts off in the direction of his room, having to grab the doorframe to stop himself from running straight into the wall opposite. Dean grins after him and Castiel moves in to wrap his arms around his waist, nuzzling around his neck so that he can feel the puffs of air as he chuckles lowly.

“So easy to please.”

Dean leans into his hold, his hands over Castiel’s. “To be fair, this is the first snow we’ve had all year.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Castiel brushes his lips against Dean’s skin in something that’s just barely a kiss. “Would you be up for joining him?”

“Well, I’m not about to miss it, even if I can’t be running all over the road with them. I’ll just... sit on the porch or something. Make a snowman. It’ll be fun.”

“Alright. I’ll get our things- meet me by the front door in five.”

-

Ben’s soccer match, as Dean learns an hour or so later, has been cancelled- none of the other kids can make it across town in this weather- and even if it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have risked the Impala in this weather. Not that Ben seems to mind, going by the look on his face as he runs along the street, pulling a sledge along behind him with Jesse sitting atop it, laughing fit to burst. He wishes he could be over there with them, but instead he’s bundled up on the porch swing, watching Castiel and Lisa and Cassie entertaining the kids in his stead.

There’s a few other people emerging from their houses, too, though they’re mostly just milling around and pointing at the sky or at the snowflakes like they’ve never seen such a thing before.

It isn’t until a snowball flies out and hits Lucas Devins from three doors down that the hush is broken. And even after that, it takes another snowball hitting his mother, Andrea, plus three more hitting Ben and Jesse and Sophie Carlton for total war to break out. Suddenly Meg Masters is shoving snow down Kevin Tran’s neck while his mom looks on laughing, while Molly McNamara starts pelting Ruby Cortese, convinced that the other woman had somehow managed to get one to hit her chest.

Castiel spends a while sort of staring at something, something that moves pretty fast, judging by the way he’s turning his head, which leaves him totally unprepared for the moment Lisa and Cassie dump a double handful of snow on his head. He turns to Dean like he’s looking for help, but Dean just shrugs and relocates to the steps- closer to the snow, so he can at least sort of join in without risking anything as chaos erupts all along the street. At least, he tries. Then Castiel comes over, looking wet and more than a little put out, and he leaves off the snowball-making in favour of trying not to be patronising while he comforts him.

...going by the lump of snow that’s shoved (playfully) into the side of his face, he assumes he didn’t succeed. “What was that for?”

Castiel stares at him, blue eyes wide in an attempt to look innocent. “What was what for?”

Dean mock-glowers at him, but lets it slide while he tries to get the snow and ice off his face. Castiel’s attention flits away, apparently caught by something Dean can’t see, something he’s watching with that curious head-tilt he does sometimes and a smile. “What is it?”

“It- you can’t see him?”

“See who?”

Castiel gives him an odd look, apparently trying to decide how to phrase what he says next. “Dean, do you believe in Jack Frost?”

Dean stares at him. “Dude. I thought we were laying off the weed until after this one’s born.”

Something flickers in Castiel’s expression before he smiles again and looks away, shaking his head. “I’m not... never mind.”

Dean waits a little while longer for him to continue, but when no words to that effect are forthcoming, he shakes his head exasperatedly. He loves his husband, he really truly does, but there are times he feels like he’ll never, ever understand him.

-

Of course, being cold and wet means that a warm shared bath is in order, and by the time they get out of that, the last traces of even Castiel’s most playful annoyance has been replaced with lazy contentment. It might have something to do with the bath itself, or possibly with the fact that the water makes it that much easier for Dean to ride him like he used to, but either way, it’s all good.

And it’s probably necessary, given the number of shivering, thawing children and teenagers Jesse invites back after the snowball fight’s run its course, all of them wanting warmth and dripping all over the place once they had it. Through all of it, Castiel is the epitome of Zen, deftly managing the production of a dozen hot drinks, the handing out of baked goods, and helping Dean to keep the kids calm and quiet (it’s the job that involves most sitting down, and his ankles did not appreciate the low temperatures just now) until their parents arrive. Also wanting hot drinks, and conversation, too, which is fine one-on-one, but navigating the minefield that is his neighbours’ interpersonal relationships? Not something Dean wants to deal with. Especially not with an unborn baby deciding that she needs to exercise her legs _right now_.

Even the Star Wars marathon Ben starts up can’t quite distract him from things, and when the last parent and child leave at six-ish, Dean finds himself sagging against the sofa. Castiel takes pity, in spite of the fact that he’s been doing most of the legwork already, and puts dinner on trays so that they can eat together in the living room before he ushers Jesse upstairs for a bath. Ben makes for the computer, settling down to lose himself in Skyrim while the ending of The Empire Strikes Back plays on with only Dean left watching it.

He can’t be bothered to get up and put Return of the Jedi on when it finishes, but there’s a bunch of junk food in the kitchen calling his name, and so when Castiel comes back downstairs, it’s to find him sitting in a chair by the freezer, happily digging into a tub of Phish Food.  
  
"What?” he says, when he sees the look his husband is giving him. “I had a craving."  
  
Castiel folds his arms, looking amused. "Uh-huh."  
  
"And," Dean jabs the spoon at Castiel for emphasis. "Your daughter's spent all day treating my ribs like a freaking soccer ball. So there’s that."

Castiel’s smile softens and he moves to kneel in front of Dean, one hand on either side of his belly. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? What do you say, sweetheart? Sorry? That’s better.” He leans over and presses a kiss to where Dean’s jumper is stretched out over his belly button, and Dean totally does not twitch. Not even a little bit. “Now what do you say we get your Daddy to put the ice cream away and let me take him upstairs so I can give him a massage and then distract him properly, hm?” He cocks his head like he’s listening for an answer, then nods. “Yes, I agree. Come on then, Daddy.”

He gets up, holding out his hand first for the ice cream tub, then, when it’s been safely put away, for Dean himself, who gets to his feet with only a bit of an eye roll. He can imagine what sort of distractions Castiel has in mind and, hey, who is he to argue with them?

Dean is thirty-six weeks pregnant, and okay, maybe there are a few upsides to it after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**December 22 nd 2008**

Dean totally wouldn’t have been doing this, except for the thing that had happened a few months before Sam ever showed up on their doorstep. He and Lisa had pretty much been on the out by then, with nothing left to do but get over themselves and admit it out loud, and under the circumstances, having an ex come over to stay had probably objectively been a really fucking terrible idea. But Cassie had needed it, needed someplace where she could escape and put herself back together after a drunk driver had killed her parents, and Hell if Dean could have refused someone in that situation- he was no stranger to the feeling, after all.

So, Cassie had appeared on their doorstep, hurriedly-packed suitcase in tow, Dean had made up a bed for her on the couch, and Lisa hadn’t said a word, though she’d looked at her kind of weirdly a few times when she’d thought Dean hadn’t been looking. Ben had initially hated the idea of someone else in the house- he’d been in that stranger-hating stage still, the one where only Dean and Lisa and the family were okay and everyone else got screamed at if they so much as came close- but then one morning Dean had woken up and stumbled into the lounge to see Cassie dandling him on her knee like she was his long-lost big sister or something, and that was that.

Lisa had been a lot more chatty around her after that. Partly because Ben was demanding less of her attention now that he wasn’t actively snubbing Cassie, partly because she generally tended to be more relaxed when Ben was. At least, that was what Dean had chalked it up to, until he’d come home early from work one evening to find the two of them making out on the couch.

In retrospect, the thing he was most surprised about was the fact that he hadn’t been surprised at all.

But he’d considered that an example of his matchmaking skills- even if he’d done little more than get the two of them living under the same roof- and even though it had been a while since then, he felt confident enough to try again. Apparently Gabriel- Dean’s favourite paediatrician at Seattle Mercy- had this geek brother, dropped out of the army because he wasn’t so hot on the orders he was being given, and hey, Sam was one of those bleeding hearts who went to every protest. At least, he had been when they were kids, and Dean was assuming he hadn’t changed too much. That, and Castiel apparently really liked books and fantasy and stuff, huge Tolkien nerd (or so Gabriel said), and Sam could speak some Sindarin. Dean figured they’d get on like a house on fire, even if Sam still wasn’t up for a proper relationship just then.

So he’d left Ben with Lisa and Cassie for the night, and ignored all Sam’s protests in favour of almost physically dragging him out the door, into the Impala and driving him to the Christmas party Victor was throwing at his place. Sam had grouched and moped the whole way there, but he’d loosened up a bit once he’d had a couple drinks. Gabriel had been late as usual, but that was probably for the best.

It wasn’t until almost eleven that he showed up in the end- Dean had been starting to worry he wouldn’t at all, and was about to say as much to him when he spotted the guy standing in the doorway behind him, and blinked.

“Dude,” he said eventually, “you didn’t tell me your brother was a freakin’ underwear model!”

Gabriel laughed. “Good evening to you, too, Deano. Where’s the Sasquatch? I figure some introductions are in order.”

“I, uh,” Dean said intelligently, more than a little distracted by just how blue Castiel’s eyes were. At least, he was really hoping this guy was Castiel. Except also sort of not, because that would mean Sam got him, and that would just be unfair. But Dean had effectively promised he’d get first dibs, so, like the gentleman of an older brother he was, he led the way back to the living room, where Sam was slouched on the sofa, chattering animatedly with Tamara and Isaac.

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. One minute there were introductions, the next he went to grab another round of drinks, and by the time he got back, Sam and Gabriel had disappeared, and Tamara and Isaac were giggling quietly together. When Dean asked what had happened, they just laughed all the harder.

Only one thing for it then.

“So, uh. You’re Cas, right?”

Tall, blue-eyed and handsome looked over at him, with just the barest hint of a smile tugging on his lips. Up close, Dean realised the guy smelt good. Really fucking good. “The underwear model, yes.”

Dean flushed and averted his eyes. “Yeah, uh. Sorry about that. My mouth tends to run away with me after a few purple nurples.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Castiel told him, still looking amused. “It was flattering.”

“Sure it was. Speaking of which, you want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Castiel, taking one of the glasses from Dean’s hand and lifting his head to gulp it down (fuck, the way his throat moved had Dean feeling even more flustered), all poise and confidence until he started to cough, and Dean spent a panicked half-second looking around for a surface to put the glasses on before he could whack him on the back. Which he did. Several times. “Dean- Dean!”

Shit. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Castiel, but he was still wheezing and red-faced and just generally looking like the opposite of fine. Dean took a tiny step back, fidgeting a little now he had nothing to do with his hands. Fuck, he was normally so cool chatting to people he liked. Had it really been so long since Ben that he’d lost his touch?

“So, uh,” he said eventually. “Don’t suppose you know where our brothers got to?”

“Sam and Gabriel? I think they went to scout for bedrooms. Considering they have not yet returned, I would say they’ve found one.”

“They wha- oh.” Dean blinked. “Oh. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Really? Gabriel had been talking of little else for weeks. Almost since he saw the picture of him you keep in your... locker, was it?”

Dean was feeling distinctly out of the loop. “He what?”

“He desired your brother. He has done so for a while now.”

“...I’m gonna kill him.”

“Dean. Dean! There is nothing you can do- they are likely knotted already. _Dean_.” Castiel grabbed him before he could go any further than a couple of steps, staring him down. The smell got a lot stronger when he did that. For some reason, it occurred to Dean that he’d never thought to ask why an omega would be in the army, why Gabriel would be so okay with his omega brother in the army. Dean had floated the idea with Dad once, and got such a lecturing on the dangers and statistics of being an omega around so many highly virile alphas that he’d never mentioned it again.

And yet. Dean swayed a little, breathing in deeply. And yet.

“Gabriel didn’t say you were an alpha.” Great choice of topic there, Dean. Real smooth. To his credit, though, Castiel barely reacted to the change of subject. Seemed almost grateful for it, in fact.

“My brother... has an appreciation for the unorthodox. Had it been his intention to do so, matchmaking two alphas would, I think, have pleased him a great deal.”

“Oh. Right.” Dean shifted, and cleared his throat. Castiel was still staring at him, and the smell was getting overpowering.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Dean, I-”

Gabriel was a sneaky bastard. Dean would remember that later, realise that maybe his plan hadn’t just been to get himself and Sam laid. Right then, though, it was really fucking difficult to think straight. Which might have been why the next thing he did was to lean in, grab Castiel’s shoulders, and kiss him. But apparently the brain-not-working thing went both ways, because before very long Castiel was kissing back, tugging him towards the rest of the flat like they’d find another bedroom there, except Dean knew there wasn’t one.

There was only really one thing for it. He drew back, with a great effort, and held up the keys to the Impala.

“You scratch my baby,” Dean told Castiel solemnly, “and I don’t care if you were a Marine, I will _fuck you up_. Understood?”

Castiel just nodded, looking breathless and dishevelled and hot as hell. “Are we- I mean, if we are not going back to Gabriel’s house, then I will need directions.”

“S’fine,” said Dean. “He’s fucking my baby brother, I figure he can deal.”

Castiel grinned, and tugged him out into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel is thirty-nine, and right now, he is very appreciative of the fact that he has the family he does. His colleagues have been bemoaning the amount of work to be done to make Christmas go well for weeks now, but the beauty of having six adults willing to pull their weight (seven, if you count Ben) is that the number of things to be done by each is rather lessened. Cassie and Lisa will be coming over later to help cook, Sam and Gabriel will hopefully be able to do their share on Christmas Day, even if the Eve is spent resting from the journey here, and Dean...

Well. This year, Dean’s doing rather less (or at least he will be, if Castiel has his way). But he’ll giving Castiel one of the greatest gifts of his life in a few days’ time, or whenever the baby decides to make an appearance, so he thinks it’s a fair trade.

The morning of Christmas Eve dawns bright and early, and Castiel takes down the first pile of presents before even Jesse is awake, piling them carefully under the tree. The rest have yet to be wrapped, and the last won’t arrive in the house until tonight, but he’s confident they can get those done in time.

Next, there’s the meat for the evening to move from the freezer to the fridge, breakfast to be laid out- and just in time, too, as Jesse appears, still sleepy and more than a little hungry, at his elbow almost as soon as he’s shut the fridge door. Castiel sits him down to wait with a biscuit and a glass of apple juice while he fries the French toast, and by the time it’s done, Dean’s taking a seat next to him. Castiel smiles, and presses a kiss to his hair while he serves up.

“No sign of Ben yet?”

“None whatsoever.” Not that that’s at all unusual. “Are you excited for your cousins’ arrival, Jesse?”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, or tries to say- it’s made a little difficult by the biscuit in his mouth. Castiel gives him a Look, and waits for him to swallow. “Yeah. An’ uncle Sam and Gabriel, too.”

“Hm. Are you looking forward to them, or to their presents?” Dean asks, with the hint of a tease to his voice. Jesse seems to take the question entirely seriously, though, even looking like he’s genuinely thinking it over for a while before answering.

“Both.”

“Good answer,” Dean tells him, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Jesse beams at him, and Castiel can’t quite smother his grin.

“Are you excited for one of uncle Sam’s after-Christmas walks, too?” he asks. Jesse shakes his head vehemently, and Dean laughs.

“No!”

-

After that, he has to hoover whatever floor space in the living room isn’t covered by presents, tidy the room up in general, make sure the fold-out bed’s working (though that’s less a necessary thing and more a neuroses-reassuring one), collect the post, persuade Ben to get dressed, read to Ben and Jesse both, write out the last few Christmas cards, send a reply to Anna’s latest email, and organise the stockings, all before lunch. After lunch, there’s presents and cards to be delivered, post to be sorted through- Dean’s card from Adam makes him considerably happier, he notices, and he’s taking that as a good sign- and the spare room to be cleaned, all before Sam and Gabriel and their children arrive.

Dean, bless his heart, is absolutely determined to help.

“I’m _fine_ , Cas,” he insists. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

They’re in the kitchen, with Dean puttering around putting the stuffing for tomorrow together, and Castiel trying his utmost to get his very heavily pregnant husband to just rest. “Dean-”

“No, Cas. I’ve been sittin’ on my ass for weeks, I can handle a couple hours on my feet. Promise. Hell, last time round, I was doin’ all this, working, and studying, so there.” He waves a spoon in Castiel’s direction. He seems to be making rather a habit of that.

“Yes, and I have heard a detailed description of your resultant medical state from Lisa,” Castiel reminds him, “who is also going to be bringing round a good part of the food for tomorrow. Go and talk to your sons, Dean,” he tells him, pressing a kiss to the skin behind his ear. “I’ve got everything sorted here.”

Dean’s about to protest further, but just at that moment there’s a shriek from the living room. “They’re here, they’re here!”

“Who, uncle Sam?”

“Yeah,” Jesse tells him, running in from the living room and nodding enthusiastically. “An’ uncle Gabriel an’ cousin Jess an’ cousin Amelia too!”

Dean grins. “Well, you’d better go let ‘em in then, hadn’t you?”

“Uh-huh!” Jesse leaps away, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get to the front door. Castiel’s laugh is a rumble that Dean feels against his back almost as much as he hears.

“And you’d better go hold his shirt, lest he knocks Jess and Amelia flat.”

Dean huffs a sigh. “Fine. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“Whatever would that be?” Castiel gives him an innocent look, then somewhat ruins the effect by following it up with a slap to Dean’s ass. “Go on. Get.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Dean protests as he waddles towards the front door. By the sound of it, though, he’s a little late to stop Jesse from leaping on his cousins. “Yo Sammy! Jesse, Jesse, let Jess breathe. That’s better. Hey, Gabe.”

“Merry Christmas, big boy,” Gabriel greets him, giving Dean’s belly a light prod. Dean snorts.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Hey,” Gabriel pouts. “I’ll have you know I’ve been on a very strict diet of late.”

“What, the ‘seafood’ one? You see food, you eat it?”

Gabriel opens his mouth to reply, but Sam wraps an arm around Dean and another around him, pressing a quick kiss to his husband’s head. “Enough,” he tells them both. “Gabriel, what do I keep telling you about your belly?”

Gabriel leers. “Nothing you want me repeating with kids around.”

Sam’s cheeks go just a tiny bit pink, but he nods. “Exactly. It’s hot. Now c’mon, I’ve been driving for hours, and I’d like to sit down and cuddle with my husband.”

“And eat!” Gabriel adds, following Sam through to the living room, where Castiel is waiting with a plateful of cookies dutifully in hand. “Ah, there’s a sight for sore eyes. C’mere, you beauties.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“And to you, Sam.”

Gabriel repeats the sentiment around a mouthful of cookies, but Castiel is well-versed enough in his full-mouth speech to understand. Jesse follows his uncles through, leading four-year-old Jess by one hand, and not-quite-two-year-old Amelia by the other. He’s good with them. With both of them. It warms Castiel’s heart to see it (and he won’t deny it’s useful that their presence and Sam’s seems to be encouraging Dean to remain on the sofa for the time being). But he can’t dwell on it too long; there’s dinner to be made, and eaten.

And, once it’s done, it’s high time he pays the Trans a visit.

-

By the time he gets back, it’s rather late. Mrs Tran is an excellent conversationalist, and he did appreciate the chance to unwind with someone who could appreciate the merits of a good cup of tea, but he’s a little worried Dean might have gone to bed already. He probably should have. The baby’s wearing him down a great deal these past months, not to mention the various other aches and pains she’s brought with her.

But when he reaches their bedroom, the bedside lights are on and Dean’s sitting cross-legged on the bed surrounded by a mess of wrapping paper. He looks up as Castiel comes in, motioning for him to get inside quickly, and shut the door behind him.

“Did the kids see you?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Castiel tells him, setting the box he’s carrying down on the bed. “Here he is.”

Dean leans over as far as his burgeoning belly will allow, peering into the box to the tiny, yowling thing within. “Well hello there.”

“It hasn’t got a name yet,” says Castiel. He moves over to the record player by the window and sets one of Dean’s albums going to cover for the sound of the kitten, which has the added bonus of making Dean smile that much wider, and even sing along to snatches of the songs under his breath.

“The kids can pick that, it’s fine.”

“Indeed.” Castiel settles himself on the bed next to him, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder as they both look down at the newest addition to the household.  “We’re keeping it in here until tomorrow, I take it?”

“Unless you have a better idea.” Dean opens the box and carefully lifts the kitten out, cradling it against his chest and stroking it with a single finger. “I guess we should probably hold off on wrapping it until we’re about to give it to them.”

“Probably. We’ll need to keep it fed, too. And possibly clean the box out if it... produces anything.”

“That can be your job,” Dean tells him, smirking just ever so slightly. Castiel rolls his eyes, but decides to indulge him, and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“Fine. Now come on, put it back. It’s time for you to be in bed, not just on it.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Oh hush.”

-

Christmas morning is heralded by the arrival of three small, bouncing lumps landing on Castiel at just gone eight in the morning. “Wake up!” shriek his nieces and younger son. “It’s Christmas!”

“You don’t say,” mumbles Castiel, but the voices and tiny, prodding fingers are insistent. “Alright, alright, I’m up.”

The children beam at him, then scramble down from the bed and run off towards the hall, though Amelia needs some help getting down. On his other side, Dean chuckles. “Another perk of being the pregnant guy- no knees in the back in the morning.”

Castiel snorts and shuffles closer to kiss the back of the neck. “Yes, well. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Same to you.”

In spite of Castiel’s protests, it’s a while before he gets up, and even then it’s only because of Gabriel’s shouted threat to send the kids back in unless he does. He ensures the kitten has food and water for the morning, then shuffles into the bathroom, yawning widely. Dean, he figures, could probably do with a few more minutes’ rest, if the children’s exuberance lasts all day, which he has a feeling it might- his back’s aching more than usual this morning, if his wincing and infrequent attempts to rub it were anything to go by.

Downstairs, Gabriel’s cooking breakfast while Sam keeps the children occupied and away from the presents- a harder task than it looks. Castiel joins him after he’s shooed out of the kitchen. Gabriel is in his element, and he will not stand for any interruptions.

Dean doesn’t come down while they’re playing, nor while they’re eating breakfast. Castiel starts to get a little worried, and waves off the children’s offers to go up and check on him in favour of doing it himself.

He’s not in their bedroom. He’s not in the study (he almost never is, but Castiel thought he may as well check). But the bathroom door is locked, and there’s a small, pained noise coming from inside. Castiel’s breath catches in his throat, and he fishes a coin from his pocket to work the lock open.

Dean’s standing at the sink, gripping the counter hard, his head resting against the mirror.  The sight does absolutely nothing to help Castiel’s worry.

"Dean? Dean, are you alright?"  
  
Dean exhales with a loud huff of air. "I'm fine. I think the baby wants to share a birthday with Jesus though."  
  
Oh.

_Oh._

Shit. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Fuckin' positive." Dean grips the sink hard, and Castiel moves over to rub his back. "Waters broke like five minutes ago."  
  
"...I'll get an overnight bag packed, then."  
  
"Thanks, babe. Could you grab me a clean pair of pants while you're at it?"  
  
Castiel nods. "Of course." He doesn’t want to leave Dean alone, not at all, but the sooner he can get what they need sorted out, the sooner he can get him to hospital, so off he goes, grabbing a pair of Dean’s sweats before almost running downstairs.

“Everything alright?” asks Gabriel, apparently noticing the slight panic on Castiel’s face.

“I, um. Probably. But Dean appears to be going into labour.”

Lisa is up in an instant. “What do you need us to do?”

“Watch the children, finish the Christmas preparations... Lisa, do you remember what he needed in hospital? If you could pack an overnight bag, that would be absolutely wonderful.”

“Of course,” Lisa nods. “Go on, get back to your mate.”

“Thankyou.” He hears Jesse asking Sam if his Daddy’s going to be okay, but by that point he’s halfway up the stairs on his way back to the bathroom, and can’t offer any real reassurance.

"I got your sweats,” he tells Dean, holding out the clothes in question, “since I figured you're going to be getting out of them soon anyway. Lisa's packing the bags- she says she remembers what you needed last time- Sam and Gabriel have the kids, they should be able to keep them from coming upstairs any time soon, I-"  
  
"Cas." Dean steps out of his soiled pants, leaving them a crumpled heap on the floor as he moves forward to kiss Castiel. "Breathe. It's gonna be okay."  
  
Castiel sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and resting his forehead against Dean's. "I know. Logically speaking, you should be fine. I just can't help but wonder-"  
  
"You stop that right there," Dean tells him, poking his chest sharply. "I'll tell you what's gonna happen here. I'm gonna get dressed, and then- shit." He clutches at Castiel's shoulders, gritting his teeth through another contraction. Castiel held him through it, not knowing what else to do. "I'm gonna wash this stuff off my legs and get dressed, you're gonna get the overnight bags from Lisa, we're gonna drive to the hospital and this time tomorrow we're gonna be introducing Ben and Jesse to their new baby brother or sister. Capiche?"  
  
It takes Castiel a moment or two to make his mouth work- and in the meantime, Dean gets impatient. "Cas?"  
  
"Yeah, I capiche."  
  
"Good.” Dean offers him a slightly strained smile. “Now go help Lisa pack before she finds the sex toys."  
  
"I think it may be a little too late for that."  
  
"...possibly. In which case, I need you to keep an eye on Jesse. Ben too, but mostly him. He needs to know we aren't forgetting about him. You got that?" Castiel nods. Orders. He can do orders. "Good. Get to it."  
  
"Yes sir."

Dean’s smile gets the tiniest bit wider before he turns away to clamber into the shower. Castiel makes his way back downstairs, willing himself to be calm. The last thing he wants right now is to spook the children, after all, though he thinks he might have done that already, judging by the wideness of Jesse’s eyes.

“Papa, is Daddy gonna be okay?”

Castiel gives him a smile that’s just slightly forced. “Of course he is, sweetheart. It’s just that the baby’s coming a little earlier than we were expecting, and it’s taken us by surprise.”

“Oh. Are you going to go to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come?”

“No, sweetheart.” Castiel presses an apologetic kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry. But we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“What about presents?” Jess asks, tugging on his trousers. Castiel blinks. He hadn’t thought about quite how much this would get in the way of things.

“I’m sure you can open them now, if your dads say you can.”

Gabriel picks his daughter up and settles her on his hip. “A couple. You can have a couple now, and the rest later. That sound good to you?”

Jess considers it for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

Sam looks towards the hall. “You think Dean’s gonna be able to move okay?”

“...why?” asks Castiel.

“Oh, nothing.” Sam glances over to his husband. “Just something that’s become kind of a tradition whenever he’s giving birth.”

Castiel is curious. “Is it safe?”

“You think I’d do something to him that wasn’t, under those circumstances?”

“Well, no.”

“Right. I’ll be back in a minute, then.”

Sam leaves just as Lisa arrives, duffle bag in hand. “I got the baby seat, too- it’s in the hall. You might wanna go get it set up.”

“Thankyou,” says Castiel. “Jesse, could you...?”

His son slides down off his lap, allowing for him to get up and take the bag. He’s just stepping into the hallway when he hears shouting from upstairs.

“Put me down, dammit!”

“Language, Dean.” Sam’s voice is barely audible, but Castiel can still hear the amused tone to it. “You can swear all you want when you get to the hospital, just not in front of the kids.”

“Screw you. It’s barely swearing anyway.”

The voices round the top of the staircase, and Castiel hides his smile at the sight that presents itself to him. Sam has his brother in his arms, bridal-style, and Dean looks none too pleased about the situation. Gabriel appears at Castiel’s shoulder, smirking. “Yep. My husband is that ripped, and lemme tell you, it is _glorious_ in the bedroom. Now, are you gonna go get yours in the car or what?”

“Oh. Of course.” Castiel hurries to open the door and lead the way to the car. “Sam, are you sure you’re alright there?”

“Positive.”

Dean looks like he’s about to say something caustic, but the words are cut off by what looks to be another contraction, and he ends up biting his lip instead. Castiel tries not to be too worried by it, opening the passenger door for Sam to get him settled and shoving the baby seat and the bag in the back before getting into his own seat. Sam steps back once Dean’s inside, slamming the door shut, and then it’s just them.

“Fuck,” says Dean, “I’m gonna miss Christmas dinner, aren’t I?”

“I’m sure they’ll save you some if you do,” Castiel reassures him as he buckles himself in. “Are you comfortable?”

Dean puts a hand to his belly, wincing slightly. “As I’ll ever be.”

Castiel glances over to him quickly before deciding his attention will be better used on driving, so once Dean’s sorted, he does, pulling away and going about as fast as he dares. Their house is soon lost from view, and he’s pretty sure he breaks several speed limits on the way to the hospital, but every time another small pained noise comes from the passenger seat, he only wishes he could manage to go faster. It isn’t until an hour later that he remembers to text Sam to tell him to look after the kitten in their absence.

Castiel is thirty-nine, about to be a biological father for the first time in his life, and he’s absolutely terrified.


	8. Chapter 8

**December 20 th 2010**

Dean hadn’t driven through the night in about fifteen years. In fact, he’d been convinced this part of his life was entirely behind him. But then the call had come through, and he hadn’t been able to say no.

Gabriel had moved out to California to join Sam a month or so after they’d first met. Dean had been a little worried that they were moving too fast, but they still seemed to be going strong. Gabriel had found a job in a hospital near where Sam worked, and his job had brought to his attention a little boy who hadn’t had the typical history of someone who was flagged for abuse- no previous visits except for vaccinations when he was younger, no obvious causes for concern.

But Gabriel had been quick to spot the signs of dehydration, of malnutrition that had led to the illness that had led him to the children’s ward, and of a hurt that went deeper than anything physical, and with some clever conversation-making on his part, the kid’s parents had been tricked into telling him enough details to ensure that, with the head of the department listening in, social services had been called in, and the kid had been taken as far from his parents as they could manage.

“Please,” he’d said. “We’d take him, but Jess is still so young, and my suppressants kinda sorta failed last week, so I’m fairly sure we’ve got another one on the way. And I know you two. I trust you. I don’t want him with anyone I don’t.”

Dean had known he’d been shaken because of the lack of threats to castrate him if he told anyone. He was in the car an hour later, Cas buckled in beside him. It was a good thing Ben was at his moms’ that week, really, because they didn’t stop for more than a few hours’ sleep at a motel on the way over before they were there, one day and eight hundred and forty miles later. Sam and Gabriel, thankfully, had a fold-out bed they could camp out on- they’d be here a while, Dean figured, and motel costs would likely have gotten expensive. He just hoped the hospital and Cas’ college were understanding.

But even if not, fuck ‘em. That was Dean’s clearest thought when they finally got to meet the kid. Jesse, his name was, and he was tiny and quiet, but awesome when you got him onto the subject of comics.

The second clearest was that he wanted to keep the kid around as long as he possibly could. And by the look on Castiel’s face, he was thinking the same, though he hadn’t talked nearly as much. Might have just been the comics stuff though. His cultural education still needed some work there.

He was still quiet when they got back. Gabriel filled the evening with chatter, bantering with any- and everyone, babbling at baby Jess in between adults as Sam and Castiel cooked dinner, but it had an edge of nervousness to it, and Castiel was barely responding. Dean looked over at his fiancé; his shoulders were tense, his hands gripping the fabric of his trousers at the knee. There were words waiting to spill out, Dean was certain of it. But they would have to wait.

When Jess was in bed, and Sam and Gabriel too, Dean carefully closed the doors from the hall and the kitchen into the living room, and sat opposite his fiancé on the bed. One moment, two, and...

“Cas?”

There was a faint tremor in Castiel’s posture, though it was otherwise excellent as ever. He bowed his head, resting it on his hands. “I... I cannot abide those who twist our Father’s words to suit their own purposes. Especially when those purposes hurt someone so young.”

Dean bit his lip, reaching out to rest a hand on Castiel’s knee. Faith is something they didn’t often discuss. They’d established early on that Dean was unswervingly sceptical about the idea that there was anything good looking out for them, and Castiel was unswervingly loyal to the idea that there was (or if he wasn’t, he didn’t mention it), and that was that, aside from Castiel’s occasional rumination on the grace and power of his god. A proper discussion about any of it was decidedly rare, to the point that Dean felt entirely out of his depth.

The best way, he decided, was to just let him continue. Not like he had anything to add that he hadn’t already said.

Except that when Castiel next spoke, it was without any religious bent.

“We’re adopting him,” he said. “As soon as social services will let us.”

He looked up, his expression fierce like he expected Dean to disagree, to fight him on it. Instead, he just smiled, and nodded.

“Well, I guess we’re gonna need to get shopping. Christmas is, what, five days away? Kid’s gonna need some presents.”

Castiel’s answering smile was one of the most beautiful things he’d seen. He didn’t have long to properly appreciate it, though, before the alpha lunged forward, and all conscious thought left Dean’s head for pretty much the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

‘Emma was born a short while ago, at 1:27pm. She and Dean are both doing well. We hope to be back tonight. -Castiel’

Jesse very nearly squeaks with delight and hurls himself off the sofa at uncle Sam, almost knocking him over with the force of his hug. “I got a sister!”

“Yeah, yeah you do,” Sam tells him, grinning. “And they’ll be coming home in a little while, so you better get this place cleaned up.”

“Can I see the picture again?”

“Sure. In fact, you can keep hold of my phone for now, if you like. Just give it back later, okay?”

“’Kay,” Jesse nods. Uncle Sam smiles at him, and ruffles his hair as he stands up.

Holding the phone makes it rather difficult to help out with the cleaning, sure, but it’s worth it. The picture’s kinda small, and Daddy looks real tired in it, but baby Emma is so so sweet and tiny, and Daddy looks like he’s made something awesome and he’s showing it off, which Jesse guesses he is. Papa looks real proud too- he’s got one of those smiles that shows his gums and he’s hugging Daddy close. Jesse almost ends up tripping over Jess, he’s so distracted, but it’s worth it. He just wishes he could see them in real life.

-

Jess and Amelia get to open one present each, in the end, to keep them happy until Daddy and Papa get home. Uncle Sam offers to let Jesse open one too, but he’d rather keep them for later. Anyway, he’s too excited to be bored or anything. Emma’s like a Christmas present all on her own, and she’s gonna be the best one ever.

Aunt Lisa and aunt Cassie come round just after Jess and Amelia open their presents (two teddy bears, one with a blue ribbon round its neck, the other pink). They’re excited for the baby too, though Lisa looks a tiny bit worried. She won’t admit it though, and nobody else asks her about it. Uncle Sam takes Jess and Amelia and Jesse into the living room to play, and Ben stays behind with his moms and uncle Gabriel to help with Christmas dinner. Everybody keeps laughing at uncle Gabriel’s jokes, but Jesse doesn’t really understand them. They’re another thing he’ll be told about when he’s older, apparently.

Daddy and Papa don’t come home that evening. They come home at just gone midnight. Jesse sees them first, because he’s been playing by the window so that he could, though Jess and Amelia fell asleep a little while ago. “They’re here!” he shouts, and suddenly everyone’s running for the door (except for Jess and Amelia, who just sit up and blink around sleepily).

Daddy looks even more tired than in the picture. Uncle Sam seems to think so too, ‘cause he gets his arm around him even before Daddy gets indoors and he’s walking him over to the sofa and laying him down on it, and Daddy isn’t even grumbling. Papa settles down on the floor next to him, but he gives baby Emma to Daddy first. Then his lap’s free, and he’s holding out his arms to Jesse, who grins and goes to curl up in it. He pats the floor next to him, too, and Ben comes over to sit with them. He’s staring at the baby. Everyone is.

“So you were in labour for the whole morning?” asks Ben.

“Yep,” Daddy nods.

“Huh. That’s a long time.”

“You, Benjamin Braeden-Winchester, cannot talk about taking a long while to arrive,” says auntie Lisa. “Took you fourteen hours to show your face. Your daddy swore it was worth every second, but I’m still not sure that wasn’t the morphine talking.”

“Lis,” says Daddy. “Of course it wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what, Daddy?” asks Jesse, because that needs clari- clarify- straightening out.

“The morphine talking.” He smiles at Ben. “It was totally worth it. The whole nine months, too, not just that part.”

Ben ducks his head, looking a little bit bashful. Jesse grins to see it.

“And the diapers, and the total loss of sleep... All of it,” says Lisa, but she’s smiling wide wide wide.

“Speaking of which,” uncle Gabriel says, very quietly (but not so quiet that Jesse can’t hear). Uncle Sam sits up a bit straighter.

“Oh yeah. These,” he says, getting up and handing out little wrapped boxes, “are our presents to you. Except they’re not our only ones, so don’t, uh...”

Papa opens his box first, and pushes the black tissue paper inside out of the way. Ben and Jesse peer over to see what’s inside, and it’s- a ‘World’s Greatest Uncle’ magnet. Papa looks over at uncle Gabriel, and uncle Gabriel shrugs.

“What? We didn’t get you guys one the first time around, so we figured why not do it on the second?”

“The second- Gabriel, you’re not telling me you’re...”

“Pregnant,” says Daddy, who’s holding a picture like the ones of baby Emma when she was in his belly. “You’re pregnant again.”

“And the points go to Mr semi-comatose-from-painkillers over there!” Gabriel gestures to Daddy, who makes a face at him.

“Is that,” asks auntie Lisa, “is that _twins?_ ”

“Yep,” says Sam.

“Wow,” says Daddy. “Rather you than me. Who knew you were so virile, little bro?”

“Dean!”

“Daaaaaad!”

“What? It’s not like the little kids know what it means. Do you?”

“Nope,” says Jesse.

“Nope,” says Amelia.

“Nope,” says Jess.

“What does it mean?” Jesse asks.

Papa glares at Daddy.  “We’ll tell you-”

 “When you’re older.” Again.

There’s silence for a moment then, broken only by Amelia and Jess’ quiet burbling as they play with their new teddy bears, before Gabriel breaks it. “So basically, you, little madam,” and here he points at Emma, “are a great big show-stealer, and I hope you appreciate how much you took the wind out of our sails with that little stunt of yours.”

Auntie Cassie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, how dare she have the nerve to be born, so inconsiderate of her.”

“Exactly!”

The grownups seem to find that really funny. Jesse’s more concerned with staring at Emma. Dad’s stroking her head and kissing it lots, but he looks up when he sees Jesse looking at them. “You wanna hold her?”

“Can I?”

“I don’t see why not.” He sits up a little bit, awkwardly, and Papa shifts round, still with Jesse in his lap, so that Daddy can carefully carefully pick Emma up and hand her over. “You gotta take real good care of her, especially her head, okay? She can’t hold it up on her own just yet.”

Jesse nods. Head. He’s got it. He can hold her. He holds out his arms, and Daddy puts Emma in them, and Papa helps him get her settled.

Emma is very heavy for a baby who isn’t even a day old yet. She takes up the whole of Jesse’s lap, and she’s very floppy too. He loves her already. Especially when she grabs his finger and holds on tight. She’s real cute when she does that, he’s decided. And when she does that movement with her other hand, too.

“She keeps doing that.”

“What, sweetheart?” asks Papa.

“That. With her hand.”

“Oh yes,” Papa says. “Open and shut. Like an anemone.”

“What’s an anemone?”

“It’s a sea creature. It moves like this.” Papa cups his hands together, then opens them out, then closes them, then opens them again. “I’ll find you a picture of one later.”

“Okay,” says Jesse.

“What about the presents?” asks Jess. She’s getting impatient, all squirmy and wriggly on uncle Sam’s lap, and Amelia’s doing the same on uncle Gabriel’s, grabbing his jumper and throwing her teddy bear on the floor.

“Coming right up,” says aunt Lisa. She gets up off the armchair and kneels down next to the Christmas tree.

“Ben,” says Papa, “you want to be Santa’s helper?”

“Yeah!” says Jesse. “Ben can be an elf!”

“’m not an elf,” Ben tells him, but he goes over to aunt Lisa all the same. She rummages through the pile until she finds two packages, and Ben gives them to Amelia and Jess. Jess tears into hers straight away, but Amelia doesn’t quite seem to understand what she has to do until uncle Gabriel laughs and gently moves her hands so that she’s ripping apart the paper. She’s still looking a bit confused though, staring at it with big big eyes until it reveals a plush dog, just like uncle Sam’s golden retriever except little and not real. Uncle Gabriel frees it from the last of the wrapping paper and lifts it up in front of her face, and Amelia coos at it and grabs its head.

That seems to remind Papa of something, and once Jess has her present- a book- he whispers “Sam!”

Uncle Sam stares at him for a moment, then his eyes go wide like Amelia’s. “Oh! D’you want me to...?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll fetch it. Could you take Emma from Jesse for a moment?”

“Of course.” Uncle Sam gently nudges Jess off his lap, and she runs over to aunt Cassie to show her her new book while he holds out his arms to Jesse.

“Papa, why-?”

“You’ll understand in a minute, but I need you to give Emma to uncle Sam so that we can get up, okay? You can take her back in a moment.”

“Okay,” says Jesse, and uncle Sam smiles at him and carefully lifts Emma from his arms.

“Hello, sweetheart. Hello. It’s very good to meet you at last,” he says. Jesse gets out of Papa’s lap and Papa gets up quickly, patting Jesse on the head and kissing Daddy on his before he goes out the room and up the stairs. Before Jesse can take Emma back, though, Ben’s holding out a present to him, and, well. His arms are a little tired.

“Is it okay if you have her a bit longer?” he asks. Uncle Sam nods.

“Of course. Besides, I think you’re going to have your arms a little full with something else in a bit,” he says. “You’ll see.”

And no matter how many times Jesse tries to ask what it is, he just smiles and smiles and smiles. He gives up, after a little while. He’s got a whole load of new toys, and those are much more fun to focus on than being frustrated at the lack of answers. Uncle Sam goes back to the sofa next to uncle Gabriel; Amelia seems very curious about Emma, putting her hand to the baby’s chubby red cheek and babbling at her, which the adults all make ‘aww’ing noises over.

Then Papa comes back, with a big wrapped box that he’s holding in both hands, and that he puts down on the floor in the middle of the room. “Jesse, Ben. This is for both of you, from Mrs Tran down the road.”

Jesse scrambles over, slip-sliding a bit in the wrapping paper. Ben joins him, and they both stare at the box. There are little noises coming from inside, but he can’t work out what it could be.

“Go on, open it,” says Daddy. Ben looks over at him like he wants permission, but he quickly looks back, and the two of them open it together.

Inside the wrapping paper is a white and blue box with holes in. And inside the box... Jesse gasps.

“A kitten?” says Ben.

“No, a pet snake,” says Daddy. “Yes, a kitten.”

The kitten is white with brown splotches and darker brown splotches and a tiny pink nose. Jesse’s grinning so hard it almost hurts. “What’s its name?”

Papa spreads his hands. “Whatever you want it to be. It’s yours, after all. Mrs Tran didn’t give it a name.”

Ben holds the kitten carefully, stroking it. Jesse realises that the noises were before were tiny, high-pitched miaows, and it’s still making them, though they sound a bit happier now it’s out of the box. “Cinnamon,” says Ben after a while. “Jesse, how does Cinnamon sound?”

Jesse likes cinnamon. Daddy uses it to bake, and it smells soso good. He nods. “Cinnamon the kitten.”

“Can I see, can I see?” Jess peers over his shoulder, reaching for Cinnamon with a grabby hand.

“In a minute,” says Ben, “let Jesse hold him first.”

And Jesse does. Two new babies in one day in his arms, and he’s very happy, even if this one is much fluffier. Cinnamon’s lighter and smaller, and nuzzles against his hand until his cheeks really do ache from smiling, though he doesn’t mind that.

Jesse is seven years old and he is the Antichrist, but right now he doesn’t feel like it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD IT'S DONE. 19,000 words in five days- quite possibly one of the longest fics I've ever written, certainly the longest without a solid plotline- and it's done. I do apologise if it's at all rushed-seeming/unpolished- I wanted to get it posted for Christmas, rather than some time around New Year's or something. Thanks to my girlfriend, Jenny, for putting up with my frantic late-night 'oh God I'm never going to get it written what am I doing with my life' rants, and also to Jack, for doing much the same, and I very much hope the author of the prompt and anyone else who has made it this far likes reading the fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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